Keranuophobia
by olidon
Summary: Implied DaveJohn flush. What was supposed to be a normal jam sesh takes a small, stormy turn. Ha. T for Dave's mouth. Oneshot.


Hey all. First Homestuck fiction. Okay, something you oughta know: I have this headcanon in which Dave's cool guy personality is just a facade. His actual self is panicky and worrisome and fearful. One of these fears is thunderstorms, as demonstrated here. And thank you, Cheyanne, for giving me this idea. Sweet Jegus do I love writing Pepsicola.

You are now John Egbert.

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB]

TG: hey dude

EB: dave! what's up?

TG: bro bailed on me tonight

TG: something came up and he cant make it home until tomorrow

TG: come over?

EB: um, yeah sure. sounds great! i'll see you then. :)

TG: cool. thanks man

turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB]

* * *

You wonder why Dave was so eager to hang out tonight as you take the ten minute walk from your house to his. Usually you never even get the first message from him unless he really needs something. Your mind wanders through the possibilities, and you pull your jacket higher up your neck against the light drizzle of rain. You hear there's supposed to be a storm later tonight. Good thing you left when you did.

You approach Dave's apartment complex and you find his door. You knock on it, and Dave's answered in a matter of seconds. "Hey," he greets. "You made it. Cool." He gives one of his Strider smiles- the one that barely tugs at the corner of his mouth, but you're still happy to see anyway. You nod. "Yep. Can I come in?"

"Go for it." He steps out of the doorway to let you inside the apartment. You walk into the living room and look around. You've been over here dozens of times, but the amount of Smuppet shit in here still amazes you. You chuckle to yourself and turn back to Dave. "So what's planned for tonight? Or are we just gonna chill?" You ask.

He leans against the door to close it and crosses his arms. "Actually, I was hoping we could jam tonight. As bros, y'know? I have a keyboard. Got it for Christmas and I never bothered with it."

Your ears perk at this. "Really?" You give him a goofy Egbert grin. "Awesome! We can totally jam. Let's do it, man."

He gives you a full smile this time, which is very unlike him, and your belly fizzes in a sort of pride. "Totally." He takes a few steps past you and grabs his guitar off the wall next to the sofa, throwing the strap over his shoulder. "Don't forget, we have the house to ourselves. Be as loud as you want."

"Your neighbors won't complain?" you ask, locating the keyboard hidden away among the swords in the corner. The Striders are a couple of weirdasses.

"No, they will. They just know better than to mess with the guy with shitty swords in his fridge."

You decide to table it at that, knowing you can't argue, and tap a few keys. "So what are we going for here?"

Dave fingers at his guitar strings lazily. "Start me off. I'll join in once I find you."

You shrug in compliance and start a familiar riff that Dave picks up in only a moment. Once the two of you have started, you lose track of the time and at least an hour goes by before a loud roll of thunder interrupts your session. You could have sworn you heard an unsettled noise come from Dave, but he dismisses it with "damn thunder."

"Everything okay?" you ask.

"Yeah, why?" He manages his usual stoic face, but it blatantly drops as a second clap shakes the room.

Something was wrong here. You step away from the keyboard and approach Dave warily. "Are you sure?"

He just shakes his head. "I gotta piss," he mutters, and heads too quickly down the hall.

You're left confused and concerned in the living room by yourself. You take a seat on the sofa to wait on your bro when you notice his phone is still on the table and is illuminated with a Pesterchum notification.

Oh god, John, you wouldn't.

You decide you would and hesitantly pick it up to view the message:

timaeusTestified [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

TT: Hey, little man.

TT: I just heard thunder. You holding up okay?

What was Dave not telling him?

Oh god, John, you _wouldn't_.

Again, you decide you really would, and carefully scroll through the Pesterlogs Dave's shared with his brother until you see what you're looking for:

TT: Hey, little man. I've got some bad news.

TG: whats up

TT: I'm not gonna be able to make it home tonight.

TG: what? stop playing with me you asshole

TT: I wish I was. I'm sorry little man.

TG: oh god no please bro

TT: I'm letting you have John over tonight. I'll be home tomorrow, I promise.

TG: swear it

TT: I swear. You'll be okay, Dave.

timaeusTestified [TT] ceased pestering turntechGodhead [TG]

You are now Dave Strider.

You lean over the bathroom sink, taking deep breaths as your body trembles and your arms nearly give out under your weight. _Dammit. That was so lame, Strider! _you chastise yourself. _He knows something's up! And just cause you can't keep your cool around a little fucking-_

A roar of thunder cuts off your inner monologue, and your breath hitches. You hug your arms against your chest and squeeze your eyes shut. _Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck._

Your eyes fly open again when you hear a knock at the door and a call of "Dave? Are you sure you're okay? You've been in there awhile."

_God dammit, Egbert, leave me alone!_ you want to shout. Instead you say nothing, but you keep your arms around your body and slide to the floor, hoping he won't hear anything and just walk away. This is not the case. The door opens, and you look up at him standing in the frame with concern in his eyes. "Dave-"

You stand up again and dash past him back into the living room. You sink into the couch and bury your face in the cushion, hoping John didn't notice how red it was. He's followed you, the dumbass. He can't seem to give you a break. He's made room for himself next to you on the sofa and he's uncomfortably close. "Dave," you hear him say again. "Chill out, man. Everything's fine."

Fuck it. You can't keep cool anymore. You let out a large breath and finally mutter, "everything's _not_ fine."

You are now John Egbert.

"Everything's _not _fine."

You have no idea what to do. You can't do anything but watch your best friend's "cool outer shell" finally chip away to reveal this polar opposite state. His face is pressed into the back cushion and his body is shaking. For the first time in your life, Dave Strider is showing you fear. He takes a brief moment to build up the courage to speak, but he can only get out your name before an earsplitting thunderclap makes him scream. He literally screams, and there's a sort of shock factor that hurts your heart. But before you can do anything, his arms are around your middle and you can just barely feel tears on your neck. "John," he manages to whisper. "I-I'm terrified of storms, okay? Always have been." His grip on your waist is tighter now, and you think you almost hear him sob. Without any sort of idea where this is going, you still hold him against your chest and simply mutter back "I know."

"You know?" he asks.

"I saw a message from your bro," you admit. "Dave, all you had to do was tell me. I would have come over either way."

He's quiet for a moment more, then he finally says softly. "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"For putting you through this shit, you know?

He doesn't say anything else, but his hands move to your upper back and the two of you sit there like that for awhile until you lean against the arm of the couch and realize that this has turned into full blown cuddling. But the noise outside is persistent, and fear still racks through Dave's body as he clings desperately to yours, so you refuse to let him go until his breathing evens out, and after hesitantly pulling his shades off, you discover he's fallen asleep in your arms. It's then you notice that having Dave cradled tightly against you like this is putting you in a state of weariness yourself. You look down at him again and smile. He definitely doesn't look scared anymore. It almost seems like he feels safe against your body.

You recall what he said earlier, that "everything's _not _fine." That had been the first time you'd heard him say something like that. Everything was cool with him. Everything was always okay. To have him need you to ensure that he got that was, well... you like it. You like it a lot. You want to make him realize that it's okay not to be okay.

He shifts against your chest, clearly fast asleep, and you absentmindedly rub his back, your heart pounding.

Maybe you could realize it together.

***  
hahaaaa crappy ending. OTL I've been working on this for way too long.

Characters belong to the Huss. I just love them for him. :)


End file.
